Making Memories
by Jacthine
Summary: Eirik never did like being alone with his thoughts. They led to dangerous places, places with sour memories filled with blond hair and blue eyes, wiped away by the very thing he couldn't avoid even if he tried. Not that he wanted to.


Disclaimer: Hetalia isnt mine. If it was, there'd be a lot more dick in it

Also, I know the title and summary suck big time. Still trying to get better at those.

Notes for reading: Eirik=Norway (just more used to it by now than Lukas or haven't else people usually use)

* * *

The sound of a vaguely familiar song came drifting through the door opposite to the Norwegian, who sat propped up against the headboard of his bed with a book in hand. However, despite all of his attempts to comprehend the words on his page, all he read were those annoyingly repeatative lyrics, sung off-key by the man now occupying the shower.

Knowing it was a waste to try and read for the night (or _any_ night for that matter), Eirik sighed and put his bookmark in between the pages, setting it down on the bedside table. Ears involuntarily picking up the upbeat tune of whatever song his boyfriend had decided to wash off to, he sat alone with just his thoughts and the unintentional background music.

Being left to his own devices was never a good thing for Eirik.

Staring blankly up to the ceiling, all the semi-long hair falling from his face, the small man closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. And, like every other time he did so, they led straight to the man most likely dancing in his bathroom.

A soft, nearly inaudible groan slipped past his lips, Eirik opening his eyes for just a second to glance at the door staring right back at him, where just beyond a man - barely that - lay who had somehow wormed his way into the seclusive Norwegian's life. It seemed like just yesterday that he was scoping all the bars he could name, drinking away his troubles and trying to find a warm body to save him from another night spent alone. Now look where he was; approximately two years in a committed relationship (though Alfred would defend to death the 'fact' it'd only been a year and a half) with some kid who didn't know the difference between an intelligent conversation and a free pass to ramble on forever about what had caught his fancy that week.

Honestly, it was a wonder how they were still together after so long. They were as different as two people could be. Alfred - sweet, innocent, _stupid_ Alfred - was a college student, twenty one and majoring in criminal investigation. He was one of those guys who would shamelessly get out of his car in the middle of traffic if he saw someone else in trouble while the twenty six year old Norwegian would much rather be the one silently cursing the blond out for holding up the line. Where Alfred was kind, Eirik was cold, unforgiving. He couldn't count how many times the younger man had held him back from saying anything rude and starting fights with people he didn't particularly like. If Eirik had known about the other's personality before meeting him, he would have immediately refused to see him. However, with the face of a gorgeous teenager and the body of a god, it was obvious as to why Eirik even went for him in the first place years ago...

Eirik remembered quite clearly the day he had met the young blond. It was a late night, one spent arguing with his little brother and having the boy walk out on him had driven him out and about, Eirik finding himself in his favorite bar. Although what appeared to be a group of college boys seemed to unofficially reserve half of the joint, the man didn't mind. More like didn't care. All he wanted that night was a drink, but he went home with _so_ much more.

The night had went like a blur for a few hours, and before long Eirik remembered painfully clearly how drunk he had been, how he had watched a small clique of college boys - _jocks_, he recalled thinking with disdain - out on the small dance floor and moving to a rhythmic, seemingly sensual tune that was apparently some kind of aphrodisiac for dancing, for about 80% of the bar was on their feet. Although, the most prominent feature of this little memory tangent wasn't the music or the mass amount of people that were far too close for his liking.

No, it was the boy swaying his hips in the middle of his vision, acting like it was only him on the dance floor besides an uncomfortable amount of party goers. It was the boy who, even under the dim light of the bar, shined bright, smile flashing towards him for only a second before Eirik knew just what, or _who_, he would do that night.

And all it took was a well placed wink and a wave of his hand, Eirik smiling softly at the memory of the boy - Alfred he told him his name was - and how he danced even when he sat down at the bar beside him. Even through the tipsy feeling he had, the older man could just picture exactly in his head how the other looked that night. Face flushed from the multitude of drinks, glasses reflecting the colorful lights the dance floor now showed off, lettermen jacket slipping ever so slightly off the other's shoulders to reveal young, tan skin...

Coughing softly, shifting to roll over and onto his side, Eirik blushed up to his ears, pushing that thought away before his boyfriend came back and noticed he was excited just from thinking about him. The man would never hear the end of it if that happened.

Either way, the Norwegian calmed down and eventually let his mind wander back to the memory, vaguely noticing the music change in the bathroom along with the pitch at which Alfred sang, letting the noise carry him into the rest of his reminiscing.

That night (and extremely early morning) had been a night filled with noise as a matter of fact, although the only music was the moans echoing off the walls of his large bedroom, the source being the blond who had been more than eager to come home with the older, albeit smaller man for a round or two.

It all would have been fine and dandy if only he hadn't woken up that next afternoon to the smell of eggs and coffee, Eirik grimacing at the memory of the soft humming he had heard over the sizzling of the stove.

So, after much confusion as to why the young man was still in his house after what the Norwegian was to believe a one night stand, he recalled them sitting together at his dining table, the bubbly blond - Alfred - eating while he sipped at his coffee and prayed he would leave soon.

He never did have his prayers answered, the merciless gods above him forcing the Norwegian to put up with (though it seemed much more like babysitting) Alfred's do-good and slightly cocky personality for a whole two weeks, the blond stopping in 'to say hi', or 'talk for a little'. However, those were the absolute last things the two ever did when together, their choice of entertainment much, _much_ more physical than a few good natures pats on the back. Not that Eirik was to blame; it was all that dumb blond's fault, and that remained his opinion till this day even.

And then one day while they were cuddling after sex late into the evening, the smaller man lying on top of the younger one, he could specifically point out every detail in that moment, because he would remember it for years to come.

"I fell in love with you..."

Eirik remembered a lot of things alright. The way his breathing stopped, how quiet and scared Alfred had sounded as compared to his usual boisterous self, even the way he glanced up in disbelief to see the younger staring up at the ceiling, a blush clear across his face. The minute or two that followed afterwards, all of the eternity of it spent with Eirik just staring at the other, the only sound the passing cars outside, horns blaring so loud that they pounded in his ears. Then again, that could have just been his heartbeat now that the Norwegian thought about it.

Either way, what followed afterwards was an event of which he nearly skipped over entirely in a rush to forget. It was a few minutes - ten maybe - where all that occurred was Eirik yelling and forcing the younger out of his house, causing _quite_ the scene in his neighborhood. Chuckling softly in his bed in the present, he recalled all to often how he had to go back inside his house that night without someone to sleep with, a cold bed for once in what seemed like forever. He thanked whatever gods were listening that he never had to experience that again.

And so, after much prompting from his own friends and death threats from Alfred's, Eirik remembered being forced to apologize to the younger male. Granted, the whole forgiving incident was awkward considering the Norwegian's near inability to do such a thing to anyone besides his brothers. But, with enough courage and guilt built up, Eirik had managed to do it successfully and without too many pregnant silences. Lying in bed alone, he could smile all he wanted at the warm memory of the blond and him hugging so tightly it _hurt _and finally agreeing to date.

Thus began their relationship as an official couple, all of their fights and nights spent pressed up against each other all adding up to this day, with him waiting for his boyfriend to cuddle. Honestly, he'd never get over how adorably clingy Alfred was at night, even if he refused it every time Eirik accused him of the act.

Even through the trip down memory lane, the Norwegian heard the telltale signs of his boyfriend getting out of the shower. The water shut off, the music now at a lower volume as he continued his humming. Not a minute later Alfred, wearing only a towel draped around his neck and a pair of hideously bright blue boxers, slammed the door open, much to Eirik's displeasure, and sighed happily.

"Nothing makes me happier than taking a nice, warm shower and coming back to see my sweetheart waiting for me!" the man laughed loudly, causing Eirik to roll his eyes and flip over the blanket that lay on him so that Alfred could get under it. Giving his hair a final rubbing with the towel, the younger blond tossing it into his hamper before going to crawl into bed with the Norwegian.

Eirik allowed the other to situate himself - lying on the pillows with a hand propped behind his head while the other was held out in a welcoming gesture - before shifting to lay partially on him, one arm around him torso as he cuddled up to the (thankfully) hairless chest.

Closing his eyes, Eirik couldn't stop the small, barely there smile that came onto his face as he listened to the loud heartbeat of Alfred's. He loved the other, even if he didn't express it much, and it was the silent moments like this that he felt truly comfortable. However, a sense of wrongness settled over him when he realized something; _all_ he could hear was the other's heartbeat. Not five minutes ago he was acting as if he owned the place (which he technically did), but now... None of the college student's laughter to a story he just told, no insistent rambling about his day, no nothing; it was a huge contrast to how the other usually acted and to be honest, Eirik was more than a little worried. But before he could mention it, Alfred spoke up and revealed the reason in a soft, almost scared voice.

"I was thinking... We should get married."

Eirik ignored the flash of déjà vu that passed in his head as he stared up, wide eyed, in disbelief at the quiet, younger man, who was looking at the ceiling with a blush across his face.

* * *

*shows up to aphrpw late with fic with lame ending*

Okay, but a little story here; once upon a time there was a girl clicking through omegle and ended up with someone with a good start about murder, asking for an America in their ic section. That girl happily responded to said stater and thus begins the reason as to why I ship Norway and America and why rarepair week is important.


End file.
